


What's Real

by Perosha



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Kingdom Hearts III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 13:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18469525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perosha/pseuds/Perosha
Summary: [KH3] Naminé gets to say goodbye.





	What's Real

The islands had come into being only gradually, blooming from nothing like spilled watercolors, shape and form solidifying after unknown ages into wind and water, sun and sand, the shores of the Destiny Islands. Naminé appreciated it, though she knew it for what it was.

“None of this is real,” she sighed, sitting on the sand next to Kairi. The older girl was not real either, a phantom born of a rare sleep that was deep enough to lead her all the way here, and such accidental visits were few and far between.

“I know it’s not,” Kairi admitted, “but we’re going to make it real. Okay? When you’re you again, I promise that’s the first thing we’ll do. You and me and Sora and Riku—and everyone else—we’ll all go to the beach together. So you can see all this with your own eyes.”

She’d like that, Naminé thought, if it was true. If they found a way.

It wasn’t lonely here, at least not as much as she was used to. Kairi’s heart was too warm and bright for her to ever feel completely alone. But her awareness of the world outside was so dim and distant, so intermittent, that she cherished every thread of sensation that tugged at her from beyond, knowing that it meant Kairi was with someone she knew. Aside from those moments, she had no sense of time, or indeed even of self. The illusion of the islands faded away if she stopped believing in it, and then all was nothingness, a dream without sleep, crystalline droplets of shapeless thought suspended in an abyss of pure white.

Now, in this moment that was not a moment, the papier-mâché islands were here around her. She stood on the shore the way Kairi must so often have done in reality, the sunlight on the water ahead paving a shimmering silver road along the surface of the ocean, inviting her to step onto it and walk to the edge of the world. An empty invitation, of course. This was not a world, and it had neither end nor beginning. What she seemed to see, what she seemed to be, were only impressions created by the light of Kairi’s heart.

Naminé began walking along the beach.

She followed the curve of the shoreline, and as she walked her shoes left no prints in the damp sand. It wasn’t really walking, though. She wasn’t really here. This place was not a ‘here’ at all. Yet she kept going because it was all she could do, even if the action took her nowhere and accomplished nothing. She did not hurry. There was no point.

Eventually she rounded enough of the curve of the shore to bring the other side of the tiny playground island into view, the side with the treehouse and the secret hideout and the smaller little islet on which grew the paopu tree. Out of habit she looked to this, as if expecting to see Sora and Riku and Kairi all there together as she had seen them in the chain of memories she’d wound and threaded through her fingers, working it apart link by link. They were not there.

But someone else was.

She stared, but the silhouette did not fade. Unbelieving she crossed the plank bridge, thinking that surely the impossible sight would vanish, but it did not. As she drew closer she saw that the ghost was blurred like an old picture copied too many times, or a drawing left to fade in the sun.

It was a boy. He sat on the low-growing paopu tree that lay like a bench along the ground, looking out over the sea. He was young, and though his face was what Riku’s had been once, he was not Riku, though for a time he had believed it, for she had made it so. Naminé stared at him. He didn’t say anything, or indeed even move, sitting and watching the waves with tranquil disinterest, as though he’d seen them too many times to count. 

When she spoke, she found she had unconsciously covered her mouth with a hand and lowered it, holding it in a fist against her chest.

“It’s you.”

He looked up. Through his translucent face she could see a palm tree behind him, yet the blue-green of his eyes was not lessened.

“How are you...here?” she asked.

“I’m not.”

He picked up a handful of white sand off the ground beside him, letting it fall from his clenched fist, an hourglass draining. She hesitated, then sat on the tree beside him, a few feet away.

“But you…you’re gone...”

“Yeah, just about. Not much left, I think. Soon it’ll all be over.”

Whether because she was looking at him harder or because of some other reason, he seemed to solidify. Though his edges remained soft and indistinct, she stopped being able to see the trees and sky through him, and he held up his hand with fingers splayed, examining the change passively, unsurprised. Naminé made as if to reach out and touch him, but didn’t, afraid that doing so might make him disappear.

“How did you find me?” she asked. “I’m with Kairi.”

“To be honest...I’m not really sure.” He shrugged helplessly. “I chose to leave, you know? I thought I was ready. But I guess there was still one last thing I couldn’t let go of. One little part of me, holding me back. The part...that’s connected to you.”

He considered.

“It’s like...You know how, when you look at a really bright light, if you close your eyes, you can still see it? That’s what it’s like for me. With you.”

He brushed his hand across his knee, getting rid of the nonexistent sand. Naminé tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I’m...glad to see you again.” She meant it. “I never got a chance to thank you, for...everything you did.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He bent one knee to rest his elbow on it, lightly swinging the other leg, his posture far more casual and confident than his tired smile. “I just figured, if you were still out there...even if it was only your heart...then you could come back someday, as long as all the pieces were lined up. As long as someone gave you a chance.”

She bit her lip, but he didn’t seem to notice, gazing away over the jewel-bright sea. It was not that he didn’t want to look at her, she sensed, but rather that he could not quite let himself, as if looking at her was more intense of an experience that he was ready to commit to. For her part she could not stop looking at him. That anything of him had found her here, even such a faint and frail echo, was nothing less than a miracle.

“I don’t remember everything that happened,” he admitted. “I was...pretty broken, after all of it. Riku told me some things, after I ran into him again, but I’m not sure...I mean, I don’t know a lot, still.”

Now he looked at her.

“Naminé...What happened to you? After I left?”

“What happened to me?”

“Yeah. Like...How did you get here?”

“It’s not much of a story.” She interlaced her fingers in her lap. “I’m not sure it’s worth telling.”

“It is. It’s your story, isn’t it?”

He listened keenly, and as she told what little there was to tell about the year she’d been alive in the world, his hands at his sides clenched into fists. The more she said, the more sad and stricken he looked, until the tale ended and he exhaled shakily, as if all her words had gathered into a weight that pressed onto his chest. She’d told the story as straightforwardly as possible, with no self-pity or embellishments, but it hadn’t fooled him.

“That isn’t right,” he said bitterly. “I guess, I thought...Sora and Riku were going to keep you safe after I was gone. But you just ended up getting hurt by someone new. People used you again.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “Naminé...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.” She shook her head. “There was nothing you could have done about it. You were gone.”

“That just makes it worse. If I’d been around...if I’d been stronger...then maybe you wouldn’t have had it so rough.”

“I would have done what I did anyway,” she said. “I had to put Sora right. Working with DiZ...I mean, Ansem...was the only way.”

“But he treated you like dirt.”

“It didn’t matter to me that much.”

“It should have!” He sat forward, emphatic. “Naminé, you—you’re not just somebody’s puppet, you know? You’re not….like me.”

She had to laugh. There was nothing cruel or mocking in the brief noise, except perhaps towards her own self, but he looked surprised by her reaction all the same.

“Don’t you know why you’re saying that?” she asked him. “It’s only because...I forced you to. The reason you think I’m special is because I made you believe that you knew me...that we’d been friends all our lives.”

“Hey, don’t take all the credit. Besides...we have been friends all our lives. Haven’t we?”

They looked at each other, and somehow she couldn’t help but laugh again, because the claim was as true as it was absurd. The years of implanted memories were false, a past never actually spent together on these islands, and yet even with those lies stripped away they still had known each other for most of their brief existences. It was just that their real lives were far stranger and shorter and harsher and harder than what she’d once pretended for them with her powers.

They’d never played tag here on the sand as laughing children. They’d never even been children. But the witch and the replica had both been born in Castle Oblivion.

Naminé tugged on a strand of her long golden hair, winding the end around one finger.

“Can I apologize, at least?” she tried. “Even if we’re really friends. Especially if we’re friends.”

“What’s there to apologize for?”

“For everything that I did.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again, worrying more intently at her curl of hair. “Everything that I put you through, in Castle Oblivion. I used you, the same way that the Organization used me. It was...wrong.”

“None of that stuff was your fault. They were forcing you to do it.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.” She let go of her hair, gazing down into her lap. “I never should have done what I did to you. I took your heart apart and stitched it back together, and...made you think you cared about me. Just like with Sora. It’s awful, and...I’m really sorry.”

She dared to glance over at him, but of course there was no anger there, only sympathy. He shook his head, as if she’d told a joke that hadn’t quite landed.

“Well, if you really  _ are _ sorry,” he said, “then there’s something you can do to make it up to me. Something big.”

“What is it?”

“Naminé, when you go back someday...when you get to be real…”

He smiled wryly.

“Live a really good life, all right? Have fun. Be happy.”

The colossal size of the request took her aback.

“Be happy…” She struggled to imagine it. “I’m...not sure how, exactly. I’ve never really tried.”

“‘Cause you’ve never had a chance. That’s all.” He idly kicked at a pebble with the toe of his boot. “But you’ll figure it out. You’ll have lots of help. Sora and Riku, and all those guys...They’ll help you get the hang of it. I know they will.”

“But…” She bit her lip. “What about you? Why don’t you come back? If you’re not...really gone.”

“I  _ am _ really gone, though. That’s the thing. All this is just a shadow of a shadow, or whatever you wanna call it. One last hurrah.”

He held up a hand, showing off the way his fingertips sometimes turned translucent.

“But it’s not fair,” said Naminé. “You should get a second chance, too.”

“Nah, I’m all right. Had a pretty good run. Short and sweet.” He chuckled. “Well...maybe not that sweet. Except for you.”

Naminé didn’t answer this, though he seemed to expect some reply, waiting intently as she watched the sunlight dancing on the waves. When she said nothing, he sat up straighter.

“Hey...Naminé?”

“Yes?”

“There’s something else you can do for me,” he admitted. “When you get back, and you meet all of Riku’s friends...Tell them that the guy who showed up to fight wasn’t really me. That isn’t who I was.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean...yeah, I was like that at first. But that’s not how I want people to remember me. You know?”

“Yes. I understand.” She nodded. “We won’t forget who you really were. Riku and I, and Sora too...we knew you. The best you. We’ll tell everyone.”

“Thanks. That…It means a lot.”

He picked up a thalassa shell off of the nearby sand, turning it over in his palm before carefully setting it back into place.

“I’m glad you’ll have Riku around once you go back,” he said. “He’s strong. Way stronger than me. He deserves to be out there.”

“You both deserve it.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not just saying that.” The conviction in her usually timid voice visibly surprised him. “You and Riku...you’re different people. And you both deserve to exist. Just like me and Kairi, or Sora    and Roxas. Or Xion.” Naminé nodded. “She really wanted to meet you. Xion did.”

“Xion.” He frowned, puzzled. “Who’s that?”

“She’s just like you. A Replica with her own heart.”

This made him laugh weakly.

“Is that right? Heh. How about that.” He smiled. “And here I thought that having a heart was the one thing that made me special. Guess I don’t even have that going for me.”

“I met her,” Naminé continued, “before I went along with Kairi. Xion thought she was the only Replica...that she was a freak. It scared her. So I told her all about you, and...she wished she had gotten to meet you. At least once.”

“Another Replica, huh?” His bitter amusement faded to contemplation. “Guess that’s something. To be honest, I never even thought about...what if there were others.” He turned this strange revelation over in his mind. “She’s really...just like me, huh? Then...who does she look like?”

“Me and Kairi, mostly.” Naminé watched the water ripple and swirl against the rocky edge of the islet. “You would have liked her, if you’d met. You’re a lot like each other. Strong, but also really...sweet.”

He rubbed the back of his neck again, as if embarrassed by the description.

“Well, in that case...If you see Xion again...Don’t mention what a big screw-up I was, all right? Tell her that I was cool.”

“You weren’t a screw-up.”

He didn’t bother to argue.

For a bit, neither of them said anything more. They simply enjoyed the sight and sound and smell of the sea neither of them had ever actually seen, the salt-tang of the air and the whispering of the waves a familiar comfort from the lies their hearts had shared. Finally Naminé stood up, brushing off the hem of her white dress, and the Riku Replica frowned up at her.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” she offered.

His frown eased.

“Yeah, okay. Sure.”

He slid off the tree trunk, following her across the plank bridge back to the main island. Like her, he left no footprints.

There was no accompaniment to their measured footsteps; this unplace had no fish in the shoals or gulls crying, or crabs scuttling through the sand. Still, the silence was contented rather than eerie. The Replica followed along behind and beside her, and out of the corner of her eye Naminé could tell that he was looking at her face in profile, admiring her with the awkward reverence he’d adopted in Castle Oblivion after being implanted with false memories. A few times he stumbled over a piece of driftwood, looking not at where he was going or where he was putting his feet, but only at her.

They walked for a while in silence before Naminé broke it.

“Do you remember, when we were little…” She watched the waves skitter up and down the sand off to their right. “I made a sand castle one time, while you and Sora were playing. And I needed a special shell for the tower, to decorate it with. So you hunted around in the tide pools until you found the perfect shell for me. A really pretty one. But in the pool, there was also—”

“—an octopus!” he finished, his eyes lighting up. “One of the little ones with stripes. It bit me, and my finger started bleeding, so you made a bandage…”

But he trailed off, his enthusiasm faltering.

“Hang on. That…never happened. Right?”

“Right.” She sighed and smiled. “But...That never happened to Riku, either. I made it up on my own.”

“Really?” He smiled too, just as halfheartedly. “That’s funny. Then I guess...even though it’s fake...it’s not as fake as all the other stuff. You know?”

She held out her hand. He stared, and only after she nodded to him did he carefully accept the offer, the fabric that covered his own hand itchy against her palm. 

They kept walking.

She kept expecting him to talk more, but he didn’t; either he’d said all he wanted to say, or else he didn’t know how to say everything that was left, and as they walked he seemed content merely to look at her, smitten by the sun in her golden hair. No one else had ever looked at her that way, and the amazing thing was that he still did it, even now, even knowing full well that much of their time together had been a lie.

A lie, yes...but not all of it. Not the parts she was most grateful for, the whispered kindnesses and the hand on her shoulder while she trembled.

“There’s...something I wanted to ask you.” She squeezed his hand in hers. “Before you go away.”

“What is it, Naminé?”

“Did you ever…” 

She stopped walking and looked over her shoulder, still holding his hand, their outstretched arms a bridge between them. 

“Do you have a name?”

“A name?” 

He hesitated.

“No...not that I remember. Maybe I had, like...an ID number or something once, but…who knows.” He grimaced. “Doesn’t matter anyways, now that it’s over with. I was me. That’s enough.”

“I just want a way to remember you. More than calling you a replica of Riku.”

“Call me whatever you want.” He nodded to her. “You were born with your name, right? That’s lucky.”

“I named myself,” she admitted. “It made me feel more...real. Maybe you should name yourself too.”

“Maybe.” A shrug. “But honestly, I think it’s too late. I’m already gone.” He considered. “How about you come up with it? You know...if you want.”

It took her a moment to understand.

“I couldn’t do that…”

“Hey, I’m serious. If you really want me to have a name, then you should pick it. When you get back...when you have time to think about it...choose a name for me. Whatever it is, I’d be happy with it. I promise.”

He paused, thinking this through.

“Well...okay, maybe don’t pick something lame. Like, ‘Riku’ spelled backwards, or something.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” She laughed despite the solemnity of the request. “I’ll...I’ll try to think of something, if I can. Something really fitting. A hero’s name.”

“I wasn’t a hero.”

“I think you were.”

She squeezed his hand tighter, and he said nothing, too flustered to argue. When he started walking again, she walked beside him.

There was, of course, nowhere to go. It did not take them long to make nearly a full circuit of the tiny island that wasn’t, and upon nearing the spot they’d set off from, they stopped and stood where the sand met the sea, the strongest of the waves lapping over their shoes every so often. They were still holding hands, loosely, and he glanced down at the sight of it several times, as if worried that his hand might suddenly blur at the edges and vanish from within hers.

“Naminé?”

She looked at him, trying to capture in her mind’s eye the fumbling awe in his gaze and at the corners of his mouth. Trying to memorize all the softnesses of him so that someday, if fate allowed, she could sit and sketch his portrait.

“Someday...when you’re you...you’re gonna make somebody really happy.” He smiled faintly. “If you want to, I mean. If not, then...you’re gonna be really happy all on your own. Whatever you want. You’ll get to do anything you want to, when you’re real.”

She glanced away from his sad smile, watching the breaking waves lapping over the dark sand, scattering fragments of seashells.

“I don’t know what it would be like to...be,” she admitted to the waves. “If I had a life, I don’t know what I would do with it. It seems like...so much time.”

“You could be an artist,” he said at once. “Like, a painter, or something. You’re talented enough.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Yeah, definitely. You could be anything you want, Naminé. Like, um…”

He struggled, searching his false and fragmented memories for what it was that people did with themselves.

“Like...I dunno. A...baker, or...a teacher, or a...dentist…”

She laughed, and he laughed too, the sounds mingling with the murmuring gurgle of the waves lapping around their feet.

“You get what I mean, though, right?” he insisted. “You’ll get to be happy, Naminé. That’s what I wanted for you, more than anything. And whatever kind of life you have, I hope...I mean, I know it’s gonna be great.”

As if to underscore how seriously he meant this, he let go of her hand.

“Do you...really have to go away?” she asked him. “Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want. I’ll be gone soon no matter what. I just really...really wanted to see you again.”

An especially strong wave washed over their feet, soap bubble seafoam swirling around their ankles. When it receded, Naminé kicked her sandals off and left them higher on the shore, then waded a little way out into the shallows, every step lightly splashing. He followed her, heedless of how it soaked the legs of his pants.

The sea was shallow for many yards, such that the two of them could walk far from land and yet still be only a foot deep in the sparkling water. Away from the shoreline the waves did not beat so strongly. Here the ocean around them was like cool clear glass made liquid, or like summer light made solid, and though the surface hardly moved they could feel the rhythm of the waves around them moving back and forth, back and forth, as slow and steady as a heartbeat. She almost tripped once, and he caught her, and after he held her steady she stepped closer, close enough to reach up and touch the side of his face, running a curious finger along the place just behind his jawline where his strange outfit fitted close to his skin.

“Hey, that tickles…”

She laughed softly. He nuzzled her forehead like he’d done only once before, and after she accepted this he put his arms around her, like a hug but looser, gentle. She relaxed.

All her life, she’d been grabbed and dragged and pushed. He was the only person who’d ever asked permission, who touched her with nothing but hesitant tenderness even after permission was given, who looked at her like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to be allowed to look at all.

“Naminé?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re really…I mean, I’m glad that you still...”

But he trailed off, too nervous to say whatever it was, and had to gather up his courage with a deep breath before speaking again.

“Naminé, do you think I’m...as good as Riku? Really?”

“You’re different than him. Even when you thought you were him...you weren’t like him. You were always like you.”

“You think so?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “It’s always been easy to tell you two apart. At least for me.”

“How come?”

“Because you’re cuter.”

A faint blush crept up his face. Her kiss was little more than a butterfly’s wing brushed briefly against his lips, but he froze nonetheless, his eyes wide.

“You shouldn’t have…” The blush rose higher, coloring his cheeks so red that Naminé wanted to laugh again. “Naminé, that...you can’t do that. You shouldn’t waste it.”

“Waste what?”

“A...a kiss. It’s…” He rubbed his cheek with the back of his wrist, half-scowling, as if he thought he could scrub away his blushing fit. “I mean, it’s...important, you know? A first kiss. It should be with...somebody special.”

“It was.”

She reached for his hand, taking it off of his cheek and holding it. He swallowed hard, and she allowed him the dignity of composing himself, letting the unwanted color fade from his face before she spoke again.

“I’ll never forget you,” she told him. “None of us will. I promise.”

“Thanks.” He sounded tired. “All of you guys...I mean, you don’t have to make a big deal out of it. Just...you know. Think about me sometimes. Okay?”

“I will.”

She smiled gently. 

“Thank you for helping me. And...for caring about me. Even after what I did to you.”

“I told you, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“Well...Agree to disagree?”

They both smiled. The water eddying around them left foam bubbles around their shins.

“I know I wasn’t around for that long,” he admitted. “And...I got kicked around a lot. You were the only good part about being alive. You made it all worth it.”

He admired her. Being admired felt just as uplifting she’d always imagined it might.

“You’ll be okay,” he decided. “When you go back someday. You don’t need me to protect you...not really. You’re a strong person.”

“So are you.”

“I wasn’t a pers—”

She kissed him again, this time for longer, and when they parted she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. He held her tighter, and she let him, and it was the first time in all her life she ever had been held this tightly by someone who cared this much. She closed her eyes, so that all she heard was his uneven breathing in her ear, and the gurgling of the waves against the distant shore.

She would have sighed his name, if he’d had one.

Clumsily he reached up and put a wet hand through her hair, his gloved fingers running through it. No one else had ever done that. It felt good.

“Naminé? I wish…”

His voice cracked.

“I wish...all this was real.”

She found his other hand, entwining their fingers, resting her temple more comfortably against his collarbone.

“It is to me.”

For a long time that was really no time at all, they stood in waves that were not really wet, beneath a sun that was not really bright, in an embrace that was as warm as anything.


End file.
